Throughout my school years, I have had a few influential teachers who impacted my educational interests and made me who I am today. Sir Damdul is one of them; he was one of my favorite teachers in high school. He taught us mathematics in eighth and ninth grade and had an efficient teaching style. My first memory of him, which is still a source of joy during conversations with school friends, is his “hair flip.” Sitting in his class, we would wait for his hair flip. He is of average height. He wears glasses and had silky black hair that he parted in the middle. When he was about to sneeze, he would go to the corner of the classroom, facing his back toward us. Then, he would sneeze and bend his head a little and then turn around with a hair flip, moving his hair back from his face. The hair flip with his slow and calm personality would look like slow motion in a movie. Whenever it happened, we would be quiet and amused. Our funny friends would giggle and anxiously wait to copy his hair flip. Right after he left the class, they would go to the corner to copy him and make everyone laugh. This impersonation is still popular among our friends.
I attended a private school in my hometown, and we would have new teachers every year, which is common in India. Sometimes good teachers would leave. Between elementary and middle school, we had a new math teacher every one to two years; by the time we would be acclimated to a new teaching style, the teacher would leave. I was very frustrated with changing teachers for my most challenging subject. But when Sir Damdul became my math teacher, I was relieved to finally have a good teacher and to witness myself doing well in math. I am a slow learner, especially in math. From middle school to college, I always felt anxious before each math class or assignment. However, in Sir Damdul’s class, I used to score A’s, which is a big accomplishment for me. Sir Damdul was very patient with his students. He modified his teaching style for each student and understood the way we learned. I asked a few of my schoolmates to write about him, and Phuntsog wrote, “What I like about him is his patience towards understanding and accommodating all kinds of students while teaching”. Sir Damdul would first teach us the lesson, and then give us a worksheet based on the lesson. He would go through each student’s worksheet; if some students still did not comprehend the section, he would make them sit in a circle in the front of the class and teach them again while the other students hung out in the back. The number of students sitting in the circle would decrease slowly. I felt comfortable not scoring correctly the first time; I could try again and get it right. I was also comfortable sitting in the circle even if my friends were relaxing in the back. However, his teaching technique gave me the incentive to pay attention and work hard so I could hang out in the back.
In the Indian education system, most teachers would use rote learning and the “sit and get lectured to style,” and only the top three or four students would be able to keep up with the work. Naturally, some teachers would feel that the rest of the students were inattentive and incompetent. But the truth was, there was only one teaching style for the different types of learners. Sir Damdul was engaged with every student though. He didn’t judge us by rank or grades, and he addressed each student equally, trying to bring them all to the same level. I hope to teach for a few years before going into educational policy in India, and I am fortunate to have experienced Sir Damdul’s alternative teaching method to this rigid education system.
In every Indian class, testing was frequent. Our test grades mattered the most and would define us as students. Because of the ranking system, there was pressure and competition to do better than everyone else. And it was stressful, both the anxiety of preparing for and taking the tests as well as being punished or humiliated by teachers and family for getting lower scores. However, in Sir Damdul’s class, tests were less stressful and slightly fun. He used to make students who wanted to score above 90 on the upcoming test sign a “contract” with him. He would go around to each student, getting their signature. If we scored according to the contract, we would get chocolate. Contrary to other teachers, he didn’t punish the students who scored low or not according to the contract. His technique made me aim higher even if math gave me anxiety. One of my schoolmates, Yangdol wrote, “Sir-lay always motivated me”. The contract and the promise also motivated me to study. I was excited by the fact that he had a different approach to testing than the normal, anxiety-producing one. He was as invested in our testing and goals as we were. Usually, tests were assessments of a student’s hard work or cramming, but they didn’t reflect the teacher’s teaching style. I wish I knew more about Sir Damdul’s education background and the pedagogy training he received. I have teachers in my family, and I know teacher training in India is lenient and minimal. One doesn’t need to study education in college and grad school to be a teacher. Sir Damdul was a light in a system where teachers were inadequately trained and “teacher” as a profession is the last option for so many.
There are two types of teachers in Indian schools: those who use corporal and verbal punishment and those who don’t. Students feel distant from the teachers who use corporal punishment, and the punishment gives rise to feelings of fear, anxiety, and shame. The teacher who doesn’t use corporal punishment is liked by most students, and Sir Damdul was one of those teachers. Chosdol wrote, “He was a one of a kind teacher. He had a very calm personality” and adding to that Yangdol said, “Sir Damdul was very calm, he was a full package of good vibes and great positive energy”; and Soni wrote, “Sir Damdul had a friendly personality which is extremely important.” Yangdol wrote, “I never felt demoralised by him.” I remember some teachers would beat us and would personally attack us verbally, and under these conditions, a student does feel the worst, even “demoralized.”
I remember only one time when Sir Damdul used corporal punishment. It was when we weren’t paying attention in class and most students scored low on a test. He was disappointed and upset and hit the low-scoring students. The next day, he brought chocolate to the students he hit. My friend and I didn’t get hit, but when we saw him giving chocolates, we wished we were among those who got hit. He apologized for losing his temper. It was scary to see a different side of him, but it also revealed the human aspect of him. It felt like he also got captivated in a system where students should be disciplined by punishment. I no longer kept him on pedestal in my head or gave him the label of “perfect teacher”; I now see him as a great teacher with intentions and emotions.
Unfortunately, at the end of ninth grade, Sir Damdul left the school. We were heartbroken, and I remember most of us crying in class. Because I was able to do well only in his math class, I learned that a good teacher can change a student. He made me realize that I am not incompetent in math, I just didn’t have a good mentor who was patient with me. As an education major now, I realize how much he has broadened my view on teaching, countering my uneasy feelings and memories of childhood teachers, the ranking system, and corporal and verbal punishment. Sir Damdul is a mentor for the future teacher that I will be in India. He taught me that even if the system is rigorous and one-way, one can use creativity and effort to bring the best from the students. Even though I did not become an engineering, math, or pre-med major, he made me feel respected, heard, understood, cared for, acknowledged, and challenged in his class. There was not a hierarchical division between us and him; we were mutually doing our best work.